


I Should Have Known You’d Bring Me Heartache

by HaleHole (SweetFanfics)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Break Up, Character Death Fix, F/M, Happy Ending, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, No Alpha Pack, Sterek (end game)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-12
Updated: 2013-09-12
Packaged: 2017-12-26 09:17:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/964242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SweetFanfics/pseuds/HaleHole
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was a summer fling turned into a romance, against all odds. Stiles hadn't expected that to happen. Not even in his wildest dreams but only in his loftiest, fragile hopes. So when Derek nodded and agreed, albeit reluctantly, to enter into a relationship with Stiles, the young man held his breath and waited to drown. </p><p>It was the inevitable end after all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Should Have Known You’d Bring Me Heartache

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is based off [this beautiful AMV ](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ifW4vaJq44s) and it wouldn't have been done were it not for Siny's encouragement, Kim's handholding and support and Bee's last minute beta help.
> 
>  **A few notes:** There is no alpha pack storyline in this story. The mildly dubious consent tag is there because of a magical love-whammy. If there's any warning that I missed then I do apologize and would appreciate being told so that I can add it into the tags. 
> 
> Enjoy.

It was a summer fling turned into a romance, against all odds. A proposal that changed its terms near the due date - going from a mutually beneficial agreement to something heavier, more complex, riddled with feelings.  
  


Stiles hadn't expected that to happen. Not in his wildest dreams, only in his most fragile hopes. It had been a pleasant enough shock when Derek had taken his half-jest as a true offer and agreed to teach Stiles the in's and out's of sex.   
  


Between learning how to properly French kiss someone and how to give a spine melting blow job, Stiles had realized that his feelings for Derek had become...  _feelings_. With Labor Day creeping closer and closer, Stiles had grown more and more nervous as he wondered how to ask Derek for more. If he even could.  
  


He asked on a quiet August evening when he was leaning against Derek in the older man’s bed.  
  


He had been ready for rejection. Stiles had anticipated several questions on Derek's part and prepared his answers in advance. There was even a PowerPoint presentation ready to be used.   
  


Go figure that Derek went and threw him a curveball.  
  


When Derek nodded and agreed, albeit reluctantly, to enter into a relationship with Stiles, the young man held his breath and waited to drown.  
  


It was the inevitable end, after all.  
  


\--  
  


_Stiles gasps, hand shooting out to grip Derek's arms as an anchor while he stares sightlessly up into pale eyes edged with alpha red. His lungs are burning, aching as they keep screaming for air, but how can he breathe when Derek keeps pushing it out of him?_   
  


_His body moves against Derek on its own, instinct and desire making him move with no grace and all enthusiasm. Stiles digs his nails into Derek's skin, raking his free hand down the man's back as he keens and comes between them._   
  


_The pounding of his heart is too loud, too hard against his ribs. Stiles thinks that he's broken and won't ever be normal again. That suits him just fine, really, if it means that he can stay with Derek. The thought makes him shiver and cling harder to the werewolf, bringing Derek close to his chest so that he can whisper in Derek's ear._   
  


_Derek's head ducks down, mouth hiding a loud grunt into Stiles' neck as he comes inside of the teenager. Stiles can't feel it, but sometimes he likes to imagine that he does. An overactive imagination can be a good thing sometimes. He grins and presses his mouth to Derek's damp hair, inhaling the vague scent of the werewolf's shampoo._   
  


_They stay connected like that for so long that the come between their stomachs goes from sticky to flaky. Stiles makes an unhappy noise when Derek pulls out of him. Sometimes he wishes that werewolves_ did  _have knots. It would mean longer cuddle sessions post life changing sex._  
  


_He's surprised when Derek doesn't pull away too far, hovering over him so that the tips of their noses touch. Stiles feels his heart skip a beat, Adam's apple bobbing nervously at the earnest, nervous look in Derek's eyes. "What?" he asks in a hushed whisper._   
  


_The way Derek's eyes flit and flicker make Stiles feel more and more nervous. Is it something bad? It has to be something bad. Oh God, what if this is it? This is Derek finally coming to his senses that it's not worth the risk to be with Stiles._   
  


_Stiles is well on his way to panicking when Derek's hand comes up to cup his cheek. "Do you trust me?" Derek asks the simple question so quietly that Stiles nearly misses it._   
  


_Blinking in surprise at Derek, it takes Stiles a few confused seconds to process the query. When he does, Stiles bites his tongue to keep the quick answer from falling out too soon._   
  


_Because, here's the thing. They might have been sleeping together for almost two months now and known each other for thrice as long, but this is something they_ don't  _talk about. It's tricky, it's complicated, it's opening up doors that they have a silent agreement to not approach._  
  


 _Stiles feels a tiny bit trapped. He's not sure what brought this up but he feels that there's no right answer to this question. If he says no, things will change. If he says yes, things will change. And he isn't too fond of change these days. Stiles has gone to_ desperately  _craving the bored normalcy of his pre-werewolf days._  
  


_Derek continues to hover on top of him, his blank expression giving nothing away. Stiles thinks that the man ought to consider being a professional poker player. He could make a killing with his natural poker face and ability to detect when other people are lying._   
  


_Ugh, he's digressing. With a small shake of his head, Stiles licks his dry lips and wonders how to answer Derek's question. What road to take. Both of them are fraught with hurt - ones that Stiles doubts he'll manage to come out of unscarred._   
  


_The thing that makes up his mind is the realization that one of those roads means loosing Derek sooner rather than later. And he'd like to delay the loss for as long as possible._   
  


_Tentatively, Stiles presses his lips together and closes his eyes. His hands seek out Derek's body and his warmth, sighing quietly when he feels familiar muscles under his palms. He's a coward for not looking at Derek when he whispers, "Yeah."_   
  


_Twice over when he rubs his nose against Derek's and he asks in the same hushed tone, "You?" Thrice over when he can't even repeat the stupid question._   
  


_Derek's answer is rubbing his nose back against Stiles' and whispering his answer into the teenager's mouth._   
  


_\--_   
  


It was the strangest thing that shit started to fly as soon as school started. As though whoever was responsible for planning all the bad things in the world had gone on summer holiday along with the rest of them and come back with a bang.   
  


A new semester meant new teachers, new transfer students and look at that, new headaches to deal with. Five alpha's who, for some reason, were all too interested in Beacon Hills and the resident werewolves therein.   
  


No biggie, Stiles had thought to himself, letting Derek pull him back into the house while Scott headed towards the Jeep. If they could deal with a Kanima, then they'd figure out a way to deal with the Alpha pack. He had said as much against Derek's fierce kisses and quick hands.   
  


Derek had none too gently pinched his side, smirking at the yelp Stiles let out, and reminded him that there was a huge difference between dealing with a kamina and five alpha's. Stiles had begged to differ, ready to argue back when Scott had blasted the Jeep's horn - long and obnoxious.  
  


Stiles had rolled his eyes in good humor, pecking Derek's lips one more time before telling him that they'd figure it out. Optimism, it was a new thing he was trying.  
  


He should have known that it wouldn't work out.  
  


\--  
  


_Hoping that Lydia has gotten home safely, Stiles changes gears and presses a little harder on the gas pedal. The girl had stopped shaking by the time Stiles had asked one of the Deputy's to escort the girl home. He'd apologized to her, making faces and claws with one hand as he cited a bigger emergency that needed his attention._   
  


_He drives as fast as he dares, eyes peeled for any speed traps. He can't afford being stopped by anyone - not tonight, not right now, not when Scott and Isaac have sent him frantic messages. Apparently they found three werewolves in the bank vault. Boyd, Erica and the last one? Derek's sister._   
  


_There are too many questions falling over themselves in Stiles' mind. Boyd and Erica were alive? Derek's_ sister  _was alive? Weren't the only survivors from the fire Derek, Laura and Peter? What the hell were they doing out in the Preserve? How had they gotten there when Isaac and Derek had checked every stupid inch of the place? Why were they feral and out to attack anyone who approached them?_  
  


 _His foot presses harder down on the pedal, taking the next turn as hard as Stiles dares. The high school is five minutes away, less than two if he keeps this speed up. It's still two minutes too much for Stiles' liking. He doesn't like this plan to lure the feral wolves to the high school. '_ Why the hell does everything always come back to that stupid place? _' Stiles gripes to himself, death grip on the steering wheel relaxing when the school comes into view._  
  


_It's far too dangerous trying to contain the werewolves in the school when it's this close to dawn. There's too much of a chance that someone from the staff might show up early and catch them. Stiles makes a mental note to point this out to Derek as he scrambles out of his Jeep and hurries over to where Isaac is. Derek is a shit planner, and someone needs to tell him this._   
  


_"Where are they?" Stiles asks, already following Isaac as they run down the dark hallway._   
  


_Isaac jumps down the staircase, taking four steps at a time while Stiles follows at the relatively slower pace of two stairs at once._   
  


_"Downstairs. Boiler room." the werewolf pants, boots thudding against the floor._   
  


_Now that he knows where they're headed, the tiny bit of hesitation in Stiles' motions gives way to determination. He picks up speed, sneakers squeaking in his haste. Right before they take the last staircase down, the first rays of dawn peek through the large windows. "Scott!" Isaac yells, voice high with delight. "The sun's coming up!"_   
  


_Good! That's great! That means that the feral werewolves should stop feeling so crazy now. But it also means that someone's bound to drop by the school any minute._   
  


_The dawn also means that he's got a_  really  _long day because he has to be back here in a few hours and then go to the hospital and meet Mrs.McCall, like he promised her._  
  


_He locks eyes with Scott from the top of the stairs, yelling "Derek?" Stiles yells, jumping down the last five steps and almost crashing into Scott. At the last minute, he manages to twist just enough that his hands slam into the rough brick wall before him._   
  


_The air is knocked out of his chest at the sudden contact. His lungs scream for air as he wheezes out, "Where's.. Derek...?"_   
  


_The shifty look in Scott's eyes when he looks at the heavy metal door makes Stiles' insides twist and knot with worry. "Don't tell me," Stiles groans, already reaching for the heavy bolt keeping the door closed._   
  


_Scott's hand wraps around his wrist, the tight grip making Stiles wince. "You can't!", his best friend exclaims._   
  


_"Why the hell not?" Stiles barks back, tightening his hand into a fist as he tries to tug his hand out of Scott's grip. “The sun’s already up!”_   
  


_Scott looks over at Isaac before nodding, stepping forward to help Stiles with the door. As he’s yanking the heavy door open, Stiles catches Isaac glancing into the boiler room with a sharp expression. He can’t explain it but that look unsettles Stiles._   
  


_As the curly haired werewolf slips inside, Stiles takes a moment to  grab Scott's arm and hisses,"What the hell were you thinking letting Derek go in there alone to deal with three feral werewolves?"_   
  


_Scott makes an aborted gesture. "It was that or let Ms. Blake be killed! He said that I should stay out here and wait for you guys!"_   
  


_Ms. Blake? "What the hell was she doing down here?" Stiles asks, heart sinking down into his shoes. God he hopes he won't have to see another dead body tonight - his stomach won't be able to take it._   
  


_What he finds is worse._   
  


\--  
  


That entire day was a blur of throbbing hurt and bone deep fatigue.  
  


There were too many things to worry about and not enough time. As if trying to figure out what the alpha pack wanted wasn't bad enough, now they had to find who was responsible for offering  _human sacrifices_  for God only knew what purpose.   
  


His heart had thrummed nervously in his chest when Melissa had led him into the morgue, hurriedly explaining what she'd found. And then she'd pulled the sheet off the second body.  
  


Stiles' heart clenched so hard, so  _fast_ that the ache nearly brought him to his knees. Heather, poor, innocent Heather, had gone from missing to  _murdered_. No.  _sacrificed._ _  
_  
  


It was one of the many things Stiles had pointedly refused to deal with.  
  


Similarly, he had  _not_ thought about how he'd stumbled into the boiler room just in time to see Derek offering his hand to Ms. Blake. Helping her to feet. His heart grew cold when he caught sight of the soft look on Derek's face. He'd never seen Derek look at  _anyone_  like that, not even  _him_. _  
_  
  


He had tried to ignore that memory the hardest. But the heavy ball of dread kept growing and growing inside of him until it had taken over his stomach and killed his appetite. Scott had given him several long, worried looks and only broached the subject once. 'He'd never... you know. I mean, it's you. I don't think you need to worry about... her.'  
  


At the time, Stiles had allowed himself that tiny bit of hope. He should have known better.  
  


\--  
  


 _Stiles isn't sure how, but he keeps accidentally stumbling onto Derek and Ms. Blake making nice. Fine, it's only been twice, but it's the principle of the matter! He doesn't want to watch someone like Ms. Blake make goo-goo guys at_  his  _boyfriend!_ Or  _Derek look totally smitten in return!_  
  


 _There's no universe where anyone would want to come across the blatant proof that your boyfriend is interested in a person who isn't you. There's a deep seated urge to_ cry  _when he sees Derek duck his head and smile bashfully at the floor in response to Ms. Blake's words._  
  


 _'Why haven't you ever shown me that smile?' Stiles wants to yell at the older man. 'Why her? What does she have that I don't?' He wants to be angry._ God _, how he wants to be angry._  
  


_There's only a deep seated sense of resignation as a thick fog rolls over him and hides the end from his straining eyes. He stumbles in the mist, wandering and waiting for the death knell of their relationship. It's bound to happen any day now because Derek's pulled away from him._   
  


_Stiles is too proud to beg Derek to open up to him, too damned stubborn, as well. He shakes his head and studiously ignores the thought as he waits for Lydia to finish grabbing her notebook out of her locker. Instead he focuses on what Boyd has shared._   
  


_It seems that the alpha pack had picked Boyd and Erica up as a warning for Derek and Scott. A slap on the wrist, or their version of it anyways. Cautioning the alpha to take better care of his pack or else there would be far greater consequences._   
  


_Honestly, Stiles doesn't get it. Was that all that the Alpha pack wanted? To check in on Derek's pack and make sure that they stayed in line? Why couldn't they have come out and_ talked _instead of kidnapping Boyd and Erica? And how did Cora play into this?_  
  


_There is also the fact that the the Alpha pack had gotten up and left right before pushing the kidnapped trio into their feral state. Stiles had assumed that there was some kind of connection present between the mysterious alpha pack and the murders but the killings have continued long after the werewolves disappearance._   
  


_He scrubs a hand over his face, feeling so damned tired as he considers how much work needs to be done if they want to catch the killer. "You alright?" Lydia asks, gaze sharp despite the dark circles under her eyes._   
  


_He raises one shoulder in a half shrug, hand digging into his pocket when he feels the tell-tale vibration of a received text. "Peachy," Stiles answers, unlocking the phone before he pulls the notification menu down._   
  


_Derek. It's a message from Derek._   
  


_Stiles' heart begins to race on it's own. The teenager feels stupidly hopeful and happy at receiving a text from Derek after 3 days of complete radio silence. There's a smile growing on Stiles' lips as he taps the messages program open._   
  


_His smile dies a quick death when the new window pops open._   
  


\--  
  


Who the hell broke up with someone via text message? Wasn't it universal knowledge that it was bad break up etiquette? Right up there with a public break up and breaking up via email! Days later and Stiles still couldn't believe Derek's  _gall_.  
  


Was that how much their relationship amounted to to Derek? Their entire worth summed up in  _one_  stupid message. Five words that made him have a panic attack in the middle of the school hallway.   
  


Stiles had known that it couldn't last,  _known it_. But that hadn't been the end he had imagined. He hadn't thought that Derek was capable of such callous behavior. Not towards him.   
  


 _'That's your ego talking,'_  Stiles reminded himself every time that thought came up.  _'You weren't anything special. You hoped you were but you weren't. Suck it up. We've got bigger fish to fry._ '   
  


It was hard. So fucking  _hard_  stopping himself from thinking that when there were so many things, so many events that told him that  _yes_ , he  _had_ been special to Derek.  
  


The way he'd smiled at him, teasing and quick, and told him to hold Scott down in the chair. The touch of his hands whenever they'd kiss and make love - not always gentle but always careful and reverent. The faintly vexed glare when Stiles had challenged his ability to punch his way into the vault. The quiet warm looks Derek would direct at Stiles in the rare mornings Stiles would spend the night at the loft.  
  


Had he only imagined those emotions there?  
  


The question made Stiles toss and turn in his bed, unable to sleep. Fear and doubt made him bury his head under the soft pillow but nothing stopped that question from haunting his mind.  
  


Until a certain event pushed him out of his pining.  
  


\--  
  


_Pushing the heavy door open, Stiles' eyes do a quick sweep of the loft in search of Derek. Only a few lights are on. Most of the apartment is dark and quiet, shadows pooling and creeping over every surface._   
  


_There's a sombre air to the space. A rush of cool air brushing over him makes the hairs on Stiles' arms stand up and his body shiver. "Derek?" Stiles calls out, stepping inside cautiously._   
  


_Thunder cracks overhead, ominous and enraged, as sky continue to weep. Lightning highlights Derek's form as it slips out from the shadows, followed by another low roll of thunder. He comes to stand in front of the windows, arms crossed across his chest as he glares at Stiles, making the teenager swallow nervously. '_ You can do this. _' he reminds himself. '_ Just focus on asking him about Isaac and everything'll be alright _._ Ugh. I shouldn't have asked Scott to let me handle this on my own. _'_  
  


 _Stiles can understand why Derek is pulling away..._ has  _pulled away from him. They've broken up and Derek doesn't want anything to do with him. That's fine and fucking dandy. Stiles is a grown boy, he can deal and live with that._  
  


 _But what doesn't make sense is why he's pulling away from his own pack. No. That's wrong. It's like Derek is_  pushing _them away and out of his life._ _Derek has never been someone who shows he cares. The man has never expressed a willingness to show or talk about his feelings, but this? Yelling at Isaac and throwing him out? It's a new level of low that Stiles didn't even know_ existed.  
  


_The man has barely spoken to Boyd and Erica after they had come back to their senses. At first Stiles had thought that Derek was punishing them for running away, for turning their back on the pack. It was the logical conclusion. But from what Isaac has told Scott, Derek hasn't been much better with Cora._   
  


_Stiles would imagine that, if he were in Derek's place, a reunion with his long lost sister would be something...amazing. Something to give thanks for. Stiles can imagine spending time with her, asking her all sorts of things. Just generally getting to know her and re-establishing their bond._   
  


_But Derek and Cora's reunion had been short, and oddly, on the bitter side if you believe Isaac. It had been a stilted conversation that had ended with Cora expressing her disappointment at the man, the alpha, Derek had become._   
  


_It was all downright unusual when you put the pieces together._  Especially  _the way Derek had lashed out against Isaac._ Isaac _. The guy was a member of his own_ pack _. Given how much Derek had gone on about the importance of pack relations, it just doesn't make any sense why he'd toss Isaac out like that._  
  


_Thank God Isaac had gone straight to Scott afterwards and spilled the whole story. Scott had called Stiles up right after Isaac had finished telling his story, shuffling away to take a shower and change his clothes. His best friend's voice had kept shifting between righteous anger and puzzlement as he had repeated the story to Stiles._   
  


_'Something's up with Derek,' Scott had mumbled, pencil tapping against his desk. 'I think we need to go talk to him. Right now.'_   
  


_Stiles had immediately grabbed his keys and made a beeline to Derek's loft, after picking Scott up. All without any plan of action that went beyond 'Ask Derek what the hell does he think he's doing by pushing everyone away and beat some sense into him if necessary'._   
  


_He ought to have thought it out better, really. Or not convinced Scott to stay downstairs while he dealt with Derek._   
  


\--  
  


The natural thing happened in that conversation.  
  


Stiles started from point A (confronting Derek on his shitty behavior towards Isaac) which led to point B (confronting him on the way he was isolating himself) and ended on point C (near begging him to let Stiles in and to let Stiles help).  
  


It was inevitable that it would turn into a non-screaming match where they'd throw bitter words and accusations at each other. Stiles shouldn't have anticipated anything less.  
  


The tears had been a complete surprise. They had welled up in his eyes before he could stop himself, hovering at the edge of his vision while Derek admitted that them, their relationship, was a mistake that shouldn't have ever happened.  
  


Stiles had pursed his lips together to keep from saying something that he might regret, three little words really, before turning on his heel and stomping out. 'Fine!', he had thrown over his shoulder. 'You want to go kill yourself then be my guest. But don't expect the rest of us to help you on the way down.'  
  


A fine trembling had begun to work it's way under his skin by the time he'd gotten down to the ground floor. He caught sight of Scott waiting for him, quietly staring out at the rain. The hopeful look in his friend's eyes twisted into something akin to pity and made Stiles want to throw up.  
  


'What did he say?' Scott had asked as soon as they were back inside the Jeep. Stiles' grip on the steering wheel made the leather creak, drawing Scott's gaze down for a quick second. 'Did he explain why he threw Isaac out?'  
  


Stiles' lips twisted in a bitter grimace and shook his head. Their argument had started from discussing Isaac but speedily devolved into yelling about them. His head felt muddied and confused, unable to understand how even after all they had argued, Stiles was no closer towards understanding Derek's motives.  
  


Everything was topsy-turvy and nothing made sense. More people were dead, they weren't any closer to figuring out who the killer was and Derek was going through an existential crisis they didn't fucking  _need_. 'Not really.' Stiles ground out, twisting the key in the ignition.  
  


\--  
  


_Life without Derek is... sadly the same as it was with him._   
  


_The sky is still blue, high school still sucks, and people continue to be killed. All it takes is some getting used to the fact that Derek's not a big part of his life anymore. A realization that he wishes he'd never achieved post break up. Why on Earth had his heart figured out too late how much he cares for Derek?_   
  


_Only him. Seriously._   
  


_So. Yeah. Life goes on. Stiles goes to school, attends class, tries his best to find some clue that connects all the murders together while simultaneously trying to figure out who the next victim will be. And tries his best not to let his inattention take him back to Derek._   
  


_The day after their yelling match, the first day where Stiles had truly accepted that he and Derek were done, he had almost made a beeline towards the Camaro in the parking lot. His heart had done the familiar happy beat before thumping painfully at the sight of Ms. Blake wrapped around Derek by the driver's side._   
  


_Stiles_  really  _hates how he keeps stumbling on them being all disgustingly coupley. Who the hell has it out for him up there? It hurts bad enough that Derek broke up with him. Stiles doesn't need to catch sight of_ _Ms. Blake happily jumping Derek in a shadowy corner of the school before passionately kissing the man._  
  


_Then again, that last one was his own fault. _He wishes dearly that he hadn't followed Ms. Blake outside when he'd seen her hurriedly leave her class, throwing a furtive look over her shoulder. His curiosity had compelled him to follow her and the satisfaction of knowing where she had gone too in such a hurry hasn't been worth it.__   
  


_Resentment _, thick and cloying,_ had swept through his veins at the sight of Derek's arms wrapping around her smaller body, holding her tight against his chest. With an angry exhale the boy had turned on his heels and returned to the cafeteria, unable to stomach the saccharine sweet meeting. Scott had given him a curious look that Stiles had waved away with a quick shake of his head._   
  


_That angry-jealous feeling is still simmering in him by the time class starts._ _Stiles keeps his eyes down on his notebook, knowing that if he was to look up at the teacher walking into the class, his anger would be clear to see. He pretends to diligently take notes, keeping his mouth closed tight and the tip of his tongue under his teeth._   
  


_The sound of Ms. Blake's voice is like a poker pushing the embers of his rage. One wrong word and Stiles is certain that he will snap. His fingers tighten on his pencil, the lead cutting through the page when the teacher walks by him. '_ Don't do anything stupid. Just don't.' _, he reminds himself._  
  


 _God, he wants to be_ anywhere  _but here. Stiles will take day detention with_ Finnstock _rather than sit in this class and listen to this... this.. boyfriend stealer talking about idioms and sayings._  
  


_As quick as that thought rises to his mind, Stiles pushes it away with the same speed. No. He can't afford to think like that. It's not fair to her. It's not her fault that Derek prefers her over Stiles. It's not her fault that she's better than him._   
  


_There's a lump in his throat that swells and swells until Stiles' vision blurs. His notebook is just one big white blob as he ducks his head and blinks quickly. Fuck. What the hell was wrong with him? He swips a hand across his eyes, acting as though he's rubbing his eyes rather than wiping his tears away._   
  


_This is a new level of pathetic, even for him._   
  


_"I wasn't aware you had so many hidden talents." The comment makes Stiles look behind him at the teacher, wondering if that was meant for him or... for Lydia apparently._   
  


_He didn't turn around to see what kind of expression the girl had but if her tone was anything to go by, it was probably her frosty-cold 'I am displeased with you and your general existence please leave right now before I cram my heel in your eye socket'. Stiles might have been on the receiving end of that tone after the whole Jackson-kanima fiasco._   
  


_He feels a swell of gratitude for his friend. She knows about what happened and immediately offered to ruin Derek's Camaro and/or his life. And now she's being passive-aggressively mean to Ms. Blake._   
  


_Stiles really loves Lydia. From the bottom of broken heart, not that he's quoting Britney Spears._   
  


\--  
  


What happened after that was... Stiles doesn't have a word for it. Other than scary.   
  


They'd come  _this_ close to losing Lydia. This fucking close.   
  


Thank  _God_  for the lungs that the girl had on her or else Stiles was certain that she would have bled out under Ms. Blake's knife.  _Which_! Who could have seen that one coming?  
  


And speaking of things that no could have seen coming - him actually sitting down to explain things to his dad. Telling him the truth. Stiles would say 'with Cora's help' but she hadn't been much of a help, especially after she'd passed out in his room mid-way the most important point of the werewolf reveal.  
  


His dad not believing him however? Not a surprise.   
  


Similarly, Deaton suddenly agreeing to help them?  _Biggest_ surprise.   
  


Finding out what they were dealing with by arranging the graded papers on the recently kidnapped history teacher's desk? The fucking break that they had been looking for.  
  


Stiles hadn't known what made Deaton change his mind and stance on helping them but he was glad for it. The vet. No. Emissary (or ex-emissary maybe?) had explained everything as succinctly as possible.  
  


Deaton tells them about Druids, Darach's and Emissary's (oh my!). Even Peter is unusually chatty on the subject, offering the werewolf side of the story. The talk wound up bleeding into the darkest hours of the night.   
  


Everyone present had their own opinion, their own input, even Deaton. Stiles considered it a fucking miracle that they had managed to keep Allison, Lydia, Cora and Peter in the same room without anyone killing each other. They deserved a fucking medal. Hell, they  _all_ deserved a medal for not shanking Peter after spending three hours with him.   
  


It had been exactly 1:24am when Stiles had gotten a call from Deputy Lee at the station, turning Stiles' world upside down.  
  


\--  
  


_"She's got my dad!" Stiles yells, wanting to slam his hands down on the steel gurney just for the sake of getting part of his anger out. "Do you know what this means?!"_   
  


_It means that the Darach is entering into the last stages of her plan. The sacrifice of the Guardians. And she's stolen his dad right out of his police cruiser, leaving the car running by the side of the road. From what Deputy Lee has told him, there was no blood on the scene so there's a good chance that he's unhurt._   
  


_Small blessings._   
  


_"We need to stop her before she grabs her next victim." Stiles states in front of the group, eyes shifting from one face to another before he locks his gaze with Deaton. "There's got to be some way to trap her or something, right?"_   
  


_"Not trap her but," Deaton begins as his fingers dance over the bottles he's laid out in front of him before he plucks one up, "there is a way to reveal her true form."_   
  


_Scott stands up straighter beside Stiles, frowning at the sprig that Deaton pulls out of the bottle. "How is that supposed to help us?" The plaintive note in his friend's voice makes Stiles want to lean against him for support._   
  


_His hands dig into the cool metal and stare at the mistletoe Deaton is twirling between his fingers. "From what you've told me, it seems clear to me that the Darach intends to use Derek as... her knight, if you will. I also suspect that she may have subtly coerced him into being with her."_   
  


_Stiles' head jerks up, mind more alert than it's been all day. "Are you saying that she put some kind of love spell on him or something?"_   
  


_The emissary gives them an enigmatic shrug, "Something like that. The first group of sacrifices_ were  _virgins." Does that mean what Stiles_ thinks  _it means? Because if it does..._  
  


_The faint thread of relief that unfurls in him nearly makes him collapse in the middle of the room. His heart is just about ready to scream and sing in delight at the prospect that maybe Derek didn't mean what he'd said._   
  


'Maybe' _, Stiles reminds himself sternly._ 'And it doesn't change what  _I_ said to him either _.' The reminder of his ugly words makes the teenager flinch and sigh, a tired hand scrubbing over his face. "I really hate this.", he grumbles under his breath. "Fine, alright. What's your plan then?"_  
  


_Deaton smiles at him, as cryptic and enigmatic as always._   
  


_It was_ really  _fucking annoying._  
  


\--  
  


The plan, as it was, was simple - break the Darach's spell on Derek by revealing her true form to him and then kill her. Alright, fine. Incapacitate her. Damn Scott and his moral compass. One of these days his best friend would come to understand that you couldn't  _not_ kill the bad guys.  
  


They were  _the bad guys_!  
  


Stiles had been ready to put up a fight. He'd been ready for Derek to disagree, to not even come to them when they asked him to meet them at the abandoned distillery outside of town. But the man had come, quiet and pensive. He'd stood and listened to them, his expression a neutral mask that broke only once in the start when they explained that Ms. Blake was the Darach.  
  


It was one hell of a surprise that Derek had simply asked them to explain. The 'or else' threat hovered in the space between them, making Scott's words trip over themselves in a rushed explanation. Between them, they managed to explain the whole story - Ms. Blake was a Darach, a dark druid and the person who was responsible for all the murders, the sacrifices. They didn't know what her end game was but she was close to her goals and had taken the Sheriff, doubtlessly to be one of her final sacrifices.  
  


Derek's gaze had shifted to Stiles then and stayed there while Scott explained about Lydia and how they'd only found out about Ms. Blake being who she was when the woman had tried to kill their friend. 'We can prove it too!' Scott had hurriedly explained, pulling out the bottle Deaton had given him. 'If we throw this on her, you'll see that we're telling the truth.'  
  


\--  
  


_The utterly betrayed look that flashes over Derek's face when the mistletoe powder reveals the Darach's true face is going to haunt Stiles for days. Maybe longer. He hopes not. He's got enough nightmare fuel to last him two lifetimes, he really doesn't need, or want, anymore._   
  
  


_Stiles can't help but hold his breath when Derek grabs Ms. Blake by the throat, his claws digging into her pale neck. It might be the shadows playing tricks - but he swears that he can see blood welling up underneath the long claws. "Where is he?" Derek hisses through his fangs, holding the woman up high enough that her feet dangle several inches off the floor. "Where did you take Stiles' dad?"_   
  


_Ms. Blake's hands scratch at Derek's arm and wrist, struggling uselessly against the werewolf's strength. Her voice was rough and scratchy when she answered, "If you kill me, you'll never know."_   
  


_Derek's snarl makes Stiles flinch and Scott's body shift forward, tense and ready for whatever that might happen. There is so much vehemence in the noise Stiles feels a tiny bit scared of the man and pity for the Darach. He doesn't want to be the one being thrown aside like a limp doll, or the subject of Derek's red eyes burning bright in their fury._   
  
  


_A sense of_ something  _prickles under his skin when the Darach pushes herself up, legs coming under her as she totters up on her heels. Stiles looks at the hand that's gone under her jacket and instinctively yells, "Watch out!"._  
  


_Derek takes a reflexive step back when the woman throws her hand up, a black dust scattering around her in a neat circle that will keep her out of harms way. Both werewolves freeze right at the edge of the mountain ash, growling angrily at the smug look Ms. Blake directs their way._   
  


_"You didn't think it would be_ that  _easy, did you?", she taunts, eyes glimmering in amusement as Scott tries to push his way in, only to be thrown back to the floor. His best friend jumps up to his feet immediately, trying again to push through out of sheer force of will. Derek takes to prowling the edges of the circle. Like he's going to wait her out._  
  


_There's a faint ringing in his ears, or maybe a buzzing. Something that cancels out the noises around him and pushes him forward. The Darach is saying something, taunting the werewolves even more and ignoring Stiles' approaching figure._   
  


_Good, he thinks. Let her keep underestimating me. That's gonna be the thing that kills her._   
  


_\--_   
  


Believing in something, someone isn't that difficult a concept for Stiles. But it wasn't exactly easy either. It all depended on who or what Stiles was expected to believe in. If anyone asked him to believe in Scott? That was as easy as breathing. His father? Even easier. Derek? Slightly more difficult but possibly after a lot of begrudging remarks.  
  


In that moment however, there was nothing Stiles believed more than his and their ability to take down this person who had killed Heather, killed Tara, killed so many people, nearly made his friends commit suicide, taken his dad. And all for what? Some crackpot goal of gathering power so that she could 'save people from the evil that was corrupting the world'.  
  


Bull-fucking-shit.  
  


Focusing on his anger, Stiles strode forward with a confidence that had taken the Darach back, her smug smile fading away. Stiles wasn't sure if she could feel the same thing that he was feeling in the back of his mind, the same sense he'd gotten when dealing with the mountain ash outside of the Jungle.  
  


' _Magic_.', a voice whispered in his head. Maybe. Whatever it was, Stiles felt is coursing through him, making him flex his hands as he grew closer to the circle.   
  


Stiles thought about Derek, letting the flood of memories wash over him. He closed his eyes and let himself go. A thousand tiny details flashed through his mind - Derek's clean shaven cheeks the first time they'd met, the sickly pallor of his face when he had demanded Stiles to cut his arm off, the mocking smile he'd received in his Jeep, the cautious-puzzled look Derek gave him after the pool, the surprised flash in his pale eyes when Stiles had shown up at the loft declaring that he wanted to help.  
  


He opened his eyes and met the Darach's startled gaze dead on. Stiles took strength from his memories, wanting to take back what this person had taken away from him. He wanted his father back. He wanted Derek back, in all his clumsy, broken, stilted glory.   
  


More memories came to the forefront of his mind as Stiles knelt before the circle. Derek's hooded eyes fluttering shut before their first kiss. The smoothness of his palm. His angry scowl. Thick, expressive eyebrows. Firm grip. The feel of his kiss on Stiles' lips.  
  


Stiles held his palm on top of the mountain ash and willed it to part.  
  


Open sesame, bitch.  
  


 --  
  


_There is nothing but smug satisfaction rolling through his veins as Stiles stares the Darach down. She is lying on her back, staring down at the broken circle in disbelief. "How did you..." she stammers._   
  
  


_Stiles raises his chin, eyes shining with pride. "Big mistake underestimating the human." He takes an immense amount of satisfaction in the shock that is pouring out of her. "Huge." The urge to crow in triumph grows when the Darach backs away from him._   
  


_He takes a step forward, mind already jumping to the thought that she might try to make a break for it. In the end, she's still pretty powerful and who knows how much juice she's got. "Don't!" Stiles commands in a sharp tone._   
  


_The Darach's head whips towards the low growl to her right. Stiles turns towards Derek, mouth open to warn the man to stay. But Derek moves quicker than Stiles can track._   
  


_A dark blur whips past the mountain ash. Stiles' warning dies on his lips when he hears a wet gurgle. He feels his stomach roil at the sight of the the Darach holding a bloodied hand to her cut throat, staring confusedly up at Derek. As though the act of him killing her was a betrayal._   
  


_Her body falls back on the dark concrete with a muffled thump. The raspy sound of her breathing make the edge of Stiles' vision go dark. He's never been more grateful for Scott's support than he is in that moment when his best friend comes to stand beside him, squeezing his arm. Nausea rears its ugly head when the stench of blood wafts up his nose, making Stiles choke and cover his mouth._   
  


_"Derek." Stiles croaks out from behind his hand, unsure of his words. The older man continues to stand with his back towards the teenagers, staring down at the dying woman._   
  


_There's the sound of a tired sigh and Scott stiffens by his side. Stiles gives his best friend a sharp glance, wondering what's wrong. Scott's eyes are wide open, nostrils flaring in a sharp inhale before he whispers, "She's dead."_   
  


_Good, Stiles thinks viscously. That's the very least she deserves for her actions._   
  


_But he holds the words against the inside of his cheeks, knowing well that Scott will not understand. He might. But it's not a sure thing. Better to err on the side of caution._   
  


_A heavy thump makes Stiles jump and Scott yelp, "Derek!" Scott is already moving forward, leaving Stiles behind to stare at the older werewolf's limp body. "Stiles! Help me!"  
_   
  


_His body jerks into motion, panic making his heart race and his hands jitter. The back of his throat suddenly feels rough and raw, scared at the possibility that maybe they weren't successful in removing whatever glamor or spell that the Darach has put on Derek._   
  


_"Derek!" Stiles yells, palm slapping the older man's cheek sharply. "Come on! Derek!" His slaps grow more and more desperate, his panic making him put all his strength into every hit._   
  


_He can't lose Derek. Not like this. Not when he hasn't even told Derek how much he cares for the werewolf. Stiles_ refuses  _to accept this. "I swear to God, if you don't wake up I'm going to-"_  
  


_Derek's hand shoots up and wraps around his wrist. Pale eyes flash open, startled and dazed as they gaze up at Stiles and then at Scott. "What..." Derek asks hoarsely._   
  


_"Oh thank God!" Scott wheezes, head and shoulders lowering in relief. "For a moment I thought you were a goner!" Stiles hopes that no one notices the way his hand is now curled comfortably around the nape of Derek's neck._   
  


_He gently ruffles the hair there, giving Derek his second hand to help him sit up. "I'm going to make an educated guess and say that killing her removed whatever spell she put on you." Stiles says, all of his attention focusing on Derek._   
  


_With a haggard look, Derek nods and crosses his legs on the floor. He doesn't let go of his tight grip on Stiles' hand. Stiles can't stop the rush of good-warm-right that goes through him at the gesture._   
  


_The more he looks at Derek, the more Stiles can see_ his  _Derek coming back. He can't believe this but he's never been so happy to see that tiny bit of guilt lingering in the back of Derek's eyes. Stiles is willing to throw a party just for that look alone._  
  


_He's got his Derek back._   
  


\--  
  


What happened next was thankfully straightforward enough and without any kind of complications.  
  


They'd found his dad in the back of the distillery, knocked out and chained to some rusted machinery. Besides a bad bump to the head, his dad was alright. And he was also no longer doubting Stiles' story about werewolves.   
  


As it turned out, his dad had been investigated a decade old death. A Jane Doe who had died under extremely mysterious circumstances. When his dad had explained about the mutilated face and the flock of crows that had attacked the hospital, Stiles had felt a chill run down his spine.  
  


It had to be Ms. Blake. Or Jane Doe. Stiles wondered if there was some way they could find out who the woman really was. But short of reviving her, which no one planned, or wanted, there wasn't much they could do.  
  


But before Stiles could close that chapter, there was an obvious loose end that he had to deal with. It was six feet tall, pale green eyes, had enough guilt to even make Atlas fall down on his face, and went by the name of Derek Hale.  
  


Just one tiny problem: how can he be expected to tie that loose end up when they both are avoiding each other like the Black Plague?  
  


\--  
  


_"You'll thank us later!" Scott's yells from the other side of the locked door. Stiles glares resentfully at the wood, hoping that Scott can feel the look anyways. "And don't even think about jumping out the window! The others are here too and we're gonna keep an eye out!"_   
  
  


_Stiles kicks at the door, clenching his jaw at the pain that shoots up his leg. Well, that wasn't a smart idea. "I hate you!" he yells back, glaring harder still when Scott laughs._   
  


_"Just don't make out on my bed." Scott answers back easily, "I don't want my room stinking of you guys when I come back up."_   
  


_He's totally putting in an application for a new best friend. Maybe Boyd. Boyd would never had pulled a stunt like this. That settles it. Once he's out of this mess, Boyd is going to be his best friend._   
  


_With one last kick at the door, Stiles exhales sharply and tries to relax. He can do this. He totally can. He can hold a civil conversation with his ex-boyfriend ,who he still has feelings for without it devolving into a yelling match._   
  


_He turns around to face Derek, who is standing with his head out the window. "No go?" Stiles asks._   
  


_"Isaac and Cora." Derek answers, pulling himself back into the room. The incredibly sour look on Derek's face makes Stiles' want to smile and laugh. It's the same look the werewolf used to make when things wouldn't go his way._   
  


_He doesn't mean to but Stiles relaxes and looks around Scott's room. If he's at ease then Derek will mirror him and they can have a conversation like two adults. Or one adult and one almost-adult._   
  


_Scott's room looks the same as it did on Stiles' last visit. He suspects that the book piles have gotten taller. Just like the dirty laundry in the corner. The room is bordering that fine line between acceptably messy and flat out disorganized - business as usual for Scott. Sadly this means that there's nothing to keep his attention away from Derek._   
  


_He scratches the underside of his jaw, feeling jittery and restless as the silence grows. "So." Stiles starts, sticking his hands into his jeans pockets. "How have you been? Feeling back to normal?"_   
  


_His eyes dart up to Derek for a second before they skip over to the open window. The quick glance gives him more than enough information about how Derek is feeling._   
  


_Derek's expression is shuttered, arms crossed over his chest defensively. His unhappiness is draped over the strong line of his shoulders, making him hunch into himself. It's probably guilt that's making him look anywhere but at Stiles when he replies, "Yes."_   
  


_With a tiny snort, Stiles shakes his head up at the ceiling before he takes a few steps forward. He plops down on the bed, body leaning forward and elbows braced on his thighs. "Please. Stop all these details. I don't think I'll be able to keep up.", he quips with a cheeky grin._   
  


_It warms his heart when Derek looks up at him with his usual fond-irritated, 'you little shit' look. Stiles scratches the back of his left hand  before loosely linking his fingers together. "You went to see Deaton right? He give you the all clear?"_   
  


_Stiles feels oddly calm as he watches Derek. Mostly calm. Maybe 70 percent calm (and 30 nervous as_ hell _). The ratio improves when Derek sighs and rolls his shoulders, something he does when he's trying his best to relax. "He said that there were no residual effects of Je-the Darach's influence on me."_  
  


_There's no way that Stiles misses the shame that flits over Derek's face when he stumbles over the woman's name. Stiles ducks his head, stares at his own fingers and whispers, "It's okay you know. To say her name."_   
  


_They need to talk about her if they stand any chance of salvaging their relationship. Stiles feels like he's chewing on glass when he remembers the coy looks Ms. Blake had given Derek. "It wasn't your fault what happened."_   
  


_He inhales deeply, clenching his hands tight before repeating himself. "It wasn't your fault."_   
  


_"Who's fault is it then?" The shaky timbre of Derek's voice makes his heart waver. Stiles thinks that he's so damned_ gone  _on this man who is staring at him like he's Derek's salvation._  
  


_Stiles holds Derek's uncertain gaze and says in his most firm voice,  "Not yours. If there's anyone to blame, it's her. She was the one who went after you and put you under her spell like some lame Disney villain." He exhales and looks away, more contemplative this time. "Who knows why she wanted you on her side but it doesn't change the fact that she's the one who messed things up. Who killed all those people."_   
  


_When he blinks and looks back at Derek, Stiles catches a quick flash of electric blue eyes. "Oh." The quiet exclamation slips out before he can catch it. Derek raises a questioning eyebrow at him. Stiles pointed at his own eyes when he says, "Your eyes. Scott told me that you'd... that you weren't..."_   
  


_Derek looks strangely at peace with his reacquired Beta status, nodding quietly at Stiles. Stiles bites his lip before blurting out, "You're okay with this? Not being an Alpha anymore?"_   
  


_"Yes." Derek uncrosses his arms, walking forward towards Scott's study chair. The chair squeaks under Derek's weight. "It's better this way."_   
  


_Huh. "Huh." Stiles states. "So you're not gonna miss it? The power and everything?"_   
  


_The werewolf shakes his head almost immediately. "No. It was a small price to pay in exchange for Cora's life."_   
  


_Stiles can't help but feel a tiny bit proud of Derek. "Look at you being all..." He waves his hand in the older man's direction. "Mature and stuff."_   
  


_He smiles harder when Derek smiles as well. It's not a big smile and it's more wry than happy but Stiles is going to take what he can get. "There's more to life than being powerful."_   
  


_Derek's simple words make Stiles nod, slow and deep. "Like family. Or pack."_   
  


_"Exactly."_   
  


_The silence this time is peaceful, calmer. Stiles doesn't have the urge to crawl out of his skin or try to make a break for it. It's too bad that he's going to break it._   
  


_With a loud sigh, Stiles closes his eyes and asks in a low voice, "What are we gonna do about us?"_   
  


_The silence he gets from Derek's end is hardly encouraging. It makes Stiles want to curl up in his bed and mope for a week. He doesn't have the strength or courage to look up and see what kind of face Derek is making._   
  


_Scott's chair squeaks, loud and obnoxious  Stiles listens to the sound of Derek's quiet footsteps cross over towards him. His eyes remain closed as the space next to him is taken up by Derek, the mattress dipping in. "What do you want to do?" Derek sounds as uncertain as Stiles did, and twice as lost._   
  


_Stiles presses his lips together and wonders if he ought to continue holding his cards close to his chest. No, he thinks to himself. There's no reason to stay quiet. Especially if he wants this to work with Derek. They need to talk to each other and at the very least, put their feelings for each other down on the table._   
  


_'_ All in. _' Stiles thinks to himself before he exhales shakily. "I want to be with you. I want to make us work." He looks up at Derek, voice trembling as he lets his words flow. "When I thought that I'd lost you I... I realized how much you mean to me. And I don't want to lose you. I like you too much."  
_  
  


_How he manages to keep looking at Derek afterwards is a mystery because Stiles feels his face grow warm, warmer, hot until he wants to hide._   
  


_There's a hopeful, wondering look growing in Derek's eyes that keeps Stiles from jumping to his feet and babbling his embarrassment away. "You still...You still want to date me?" Derek sounds so much like a lost boy that Stiles can't help but let out a strangled laugh-sob._   
  


_He lightly punches Derek's arm before leaning against him. "Yeah, fuzzbutt. I do." Stiles hides his face in Derek's shirt when he feels a familiar hand wrap around his waist. "But we really gotta find a way to make sure this doesn't happen again." With his mouth pressing into the cotton, it's a wonder that Derek understands him but he does._   
  


_"You could ask Deaton. He'd probably know." Derek suggests, his voice low. His words brush through Stiles' hair, making the teenager shiver with delight. God, how he has missed this. And he's not just talking about the physical aspect of their relationship. Just_ talking  _with Derek._  
  


_Stiles grumbles something about cryptic people being terrible people to ask for help, wrapping his hand back around Derek's waist. It makes Derek laugh, quick and low._   
  


_"I bet he'll tell us that there's some super complicated or life threatening way to figure out if your boyfriend or girlfriend have been love whammied." Stiles muses aloud, "There's got to an easier way right? Like. I dunno. Tossing holy water at demons or something."_   
  


_He expects and waits for Derek to sigh and tell him that he needs to stop taking cues from Supernatural. What he gets is silence. Stiles pulls away to look at Derek, wondering if he's said something wrong. Derek is looking away, a flush working its way around the man's cheeks and down his neck. "Derek?" Stiles asks curiously._   
  


_Derek jerks his head, like he's got a crick in his neck before he speaks. "There... is an easier way."_   
  


_Oh? His interest is more than peaked now. He doesn't try to catch Derek's eye because that means getting up and standing in front of Derek. And Stiles is quite comfortable sitting next to him. "Care to share with the rest of the class?" he quips._   
  


_Stiles watches Derek's expressions shift between frustration and, dare he say it, nerves before he looks determined. Like he's about to be shot with wolfsbane bullets rather than telling Stiles how they can prevent another Ms. Blake situation._   
  


_"If I ever act the way I did before, just assume that something's wrong." Derek blurts out, words rushing over each other. "If I'm... acting like I'm interested in someone else who isn't you, that's your sign that I'm not me."_   
  


_Oooookay. Stiles isn't sure what to do with this information. What kind of cockamine test is this supposed to be? He stares at Derek, highly suspicious as his brain lingers on the edge of a revelation that is just out of reach. "I don't get it," Stiles says, tilting his head in confusion._   
  


_Why Derek lets out a frustrated growl at his question, Stiles doesn't understand. The glare and the pleading look in Derek's eyes when he asks, "Do I need to spell it out for you?" however? Totally different story._   
  


_One possible answer clicks into his head and it makes Stiles' flush. "Uuuh. Quite possibly." He does not squeak, hoping that he's not blushing too hard. "Because I've got a thought in mind but it's just an assumption and you know what they say a-"_   
  


_His sentence trails off when Derek knocks his forehead against Stiles' and sighs amusedly. "Tell me what you think I mean."_   
  


_Stiles tries to frown at Derek but is certain that he winds up looking cross eyed. "Your communication skills suck." He complains half heartedly, voice wobbling near the end._   
  


_Derek looks sheepish for half a second as Stiles breathes in. And breathes out. "You like me that much?" He asks, feeling like he's floating and falling at the same time. Surely that's what Derek means right? That he's not going to look at anyone else the way he looks at Stiles because he likes Stiles that damned much?_   
  


_There's a burning sensation in the corner of his eyes when Derek nods, swallowing noisily. Derek's voice is hoarse when he speaks, "Yeah. I. I like you that much."_   
  


_"Oh." Stiles is certain that he's dead. He's melted down into mush and passed on into the great blue yonder. His hills are alive with the sound of music. Or something. Whatever. He can make up his own idioms because Derek Hale likes him_ that  _much._  
  


 _Holy_ crap _. Derek likes him_ that much _?! He feels more than a little overwhelmed as this fact sinks in. "But what if you meet someone else? You never kn-"_  
  


_"No." Derek shakes his head, smiling faintly as he takes hold of Stiles' hand in his own. "Just you."_   
  


_Stiles is coming close to freaking out just a tiny bit. A tiny bit. Not a lot. "But I'm me! How can you like me that much? Have you met me?!"_   
  


_The fact that Derek looks insulted is just. It's too adorable. Stiles can't handle this. He's ready to get up and flail when Derek pulls the younger man into his lap and kisses him, short but hard. Stiles yelps at the sudden manhandling but relaxes into the kiss quick enough._   
  


_When Derek pulls back, Stiles feels stupidly giddy and relaxed. "One day," Derek promises roughly, "I'll make you see it."_   
  


_Stiles knows that they need to talk about a lot of other things before jumping back into a relationship. They need to establish ground rules, make a promise to communicate and to not avoid each other if and when things go bad. They ought to take it slow this time around instead of jumping back into bed straight away._   
  


_Then again, Stiles thinks dizzily as he stares into Derek's earnest eyes. They_ do  _have a hell of a lot of time to hammer all the pesky details out. "One day?" He asks coyly, "You sound pretty confident about that. Us, I mean."_  
  


 _"Yes," Derek smiles at him, looking happier than Stiles has_ ever  _seen him before. "I am."_


End file.
